


Bloodied Stone

by Bioluminescent



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: Yussa gets unexpected visitors one night in his home, but not exactly that unexpected seeing as he essentially gave them a key. The shape they are in however, is not something he was exactly prepared for.





	Bloodied Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: suicidal tendencies/ideation for Caleb, starts at the page break and "While he had expected interruptions from his allies..." ends at "But as Caleb snaps his familiar into existence..."  
> There is also a part of dissociation for Caleb, much like the ones he goes through in canon, but it's implied.
> 
> Spoilers for c2ep48, but only really the first half cuz that's when I thought of this as something to write up. I am very curious about Yussa and the future with him.
> 
> No betaed so all mistakes are my own!

A faint tickle along the back of his neck and the soft chime from one of the many silver bells mounted on the wall in his office are enough to rouse Yussa, and he opens his eyes to the darkness of his room.

Rolling over onto his side, he can just see the clear glow of one of the runes above the bells through cracks around the door, and he sighs before pushing himself up, slipping into one of the warmer robes in his closet to fight off the slight chill in the air.

The door clicks open when he gets close, and a wave of the hand has it closing again.

A sense of dread settles over his shoulders like another robe once he sees which room has his current guests, the rune pulsing slowly above the bell, blue light washing over the rest of the room and over the messy piles of papers and books in his last bought of frantic research.

Quickly messaging Wentsworth to meet him in the teleportation room, Yussa begins his treck down the floors, contemplating what could possibly have resulted in his hesitant allies to arrive so suddenly in the middle of the night.

Early morning cold seeps through the stones, and he pads softly down the stairs, reflecting on his previous encounters with the Mighty Nein. Brash, headstrong, and with a amount of luck he certainly never had in his own adventuring youth, they were impulsive yet unerringly loyal as he had quickly discovered.

Wentsworth gets to the door as he pauses on the landing above, and the goblin opens it with a scowl on his face, but whatever scathing remark he had for those inside dies as he stops short and stares into the room, shock-still. Once the door is open, Yussa can hear gasps of pain and what sounds like the consistent dripping of some liquid onto stone and he quickens his pace, pushing Wentsworth further into the room so he can see what remains of his allies.

The stench of ozone and burned skin and hair reaches his nose first, and he raises a hand to his face, waving with the other to get the sconces on the walls to brighten to a dim light.

Blood is splattered across the intricate runes on the floor, several bodies are flung in heaps in a rough circle from the center, and the familiar feeling of dread and death that comes with necromancy hovers over the group in an almost physical cloud.

As Wentsworth darts past him back into the stairwell, to no doubt get some of the basic healing potions, Yussa watches -- in shock himself, not that he would ever admit it to this group -- as Jester pulls Fjord against her chest, tucking the half-orcs head under her chin as her fingers slip through the slick on his chest, muttering to herself for a moment before arcane energy fills her hands and digs into the wounds, knitting them closed, Fjord gasping wetly at the pain. 

He can barely make out Fjord’s face through the blood coating it from a nasty looking wound on his scalp, but he can make out the bruises and scratches littering Jester’s armor, one of her sleeves ripped enough he can see a deep gash sluggishly oozing some black fluid. A sharp whine and the resounding crack and grinding of bone draws his attention from those two as he takes another step into the room, idly preparing a spell to protect himself if things go wrong.

Yasha pushes herself to her hands and knees, jaw clenching in pain as she crawls to an unmoving heap of flesh and blue cloth.

She settles a gentle hand onto a shoulder, and he cannot help but raise an eyebrow at the feel of divine energy suffusing the room from her. Beauregard lets out a weak moan, mumbling something he cannot catch, but the tension in Yasha releases just enough for her lips to turn down at the edges and for her face to slack into well worn grief as she thumps down next to Beauregard, sighing out sharply. The closer he looks, the more he sees blood covering them, and when he sees a flash of bone as Beauregard shifts onto her back, he has to fight down a curse at the sight. 

Wentsworth finally reappears, huffing, slightly disheveled but triumphant, the case in his hands clinking as he makes his way toward Yasha and Beauregard.

The gentle tension in the room ratchets up, and at a flash of movement, his hand flies up, spitting an arcane spell he has not used for quite some time, blue energy flaring up around Wentsworth and knocking the crossbow bolt and throwing star askew to clatter near opposite walls.

Yellow eyes gleam off to the side, and Nott whispers, “Sorry.”

Wentsworth only nods coolly at her, skittering closer to Yasha when Beauregard grunts and flops onto her back, unconscious, and given the way she was clutching her purpling ribs with her broken arm, Yussa cannot blame her.

He turns his attention back to Nott, and he finds the source of the smell of burning flesh.

Curled in a shaking ball, Caleb Widogast ignores Nott and Caduceus as they murmur to each other, and Yussa frowns behind his carefully crafted mask as Caleb flinches away from the touch of Caduceus and the healing magic that he pours into wounded broken flesh. While the others had been harmed by what appears to mainly be blunt force and necrotic magic, Caleb’s clothes are singed and burned, skin shiny and red in places underneath where his shirt and pants fall away into ashes. As Caduceus proceeds to check the rest of Caleb’s wounds, Nott pulls his head onto her lap and runs her claws through his hair.

The air sizzles around them when the normally calm firbolg bites out a string of the filthiest language Yussa has heard in some time, nevermind the shouting matches he used to get into with the Concord council, and the rest of the group looks up towards him in shock as he frowns down at what he is peering at under a relatively unharmed patch of shirt fabric.

“Duce?” Jester absentmindedly pats Fjord’s hand as he fumbles for her fingers when she shifts where she is sitting, trying to see what Caduceus is looking at. “What did they do?”

He grumbles, low and unhappy, and Yussa can feel his displeasure vibrate through his teeth as Caduceus gingerly rests his fingertips on Caleb’s skin. “Brands, what else?”

If the previous tension at Wentsworth startling them was high, the way the group tensed and started slowly shifting toward their wizard was downright volatile, and he almost expected the air to ignite given the way Jester was snarling under her breath and Fjord’s eyes were glowing in a way that half-orc eyes were not supposed to. The scent of ozone sharpened around Yasha as she gathered a barely moving Beauregard into her arms, the monk hissing out creative expletives and curses upon those of the Cerberus Assembly as she allowed Wentsworth to check the remainder of her wounds. Nott’s hands clenched for a moment in dirty auburn hair before she smoothed a curl from Caleb’s forehead with one hand and pulled a flask from her own singed cloak and began to drink heavily.

When she was done, she belched loudly and said a single word in Goblin that had Wentsworth jerk up and stare at her in shock, looking about as startled as he had ever seen him.

Another deep grumble from Caduceus as he sighed, “And I’m fresh out, so I can’t do anything right now to get rid of them.”

“Not your fault, Cad.” Beauregard nodded at the cleric once from her cage of muscle before closing her eyes and dropping off. Gently, Yasha waved off Wentsworth and began to stand up, wavering alarmingly for a moment until Nott darted over and leaned into her waist.

Wordlessly, Wentsworth motioned them to follow him as Jester copied Yasha and stood, her arms full of half-orc.

Nott paused for a moment to make eye contact with Caduceus, quickly glancing at Yussa and biting her lip. Nodding slowly, a smile crossed Caduceus’ face, and he took Nott’s previous spot, settling down as comfortably as he could on bloodied stone, and placed a large hand on Caleb’s head. As he watched, the firbolg began humming gently under his breath, reaching out to take one of Caleb’s limp hands and rubbing gentle circles in his palm, the other deftly picking wilted flowers from the wizards hair and placing them in a pile near his knee.

Wentsworth’s voice very nearly startles him, but he forces himself to relax at the words that follow. “They are settled in the infirmary, sir, and are currently resting. What of the other two?”

“Everything is under control, I’m going to leave them to it.” He tries to keep his voice down, but by the way soft ears twitch towards him, he figures that Caduceus has heard, a thought confirmed by the small smile he turns to him.

“We might be here for a while,” The pleasant rumble fills the air in the room, and Yussa has to fight off the comforting scent of fresh cut grass and dirt that whispers _rest_ at him. “But if you could have tea sent up that would be wonderful.”

A simple enough request that he waves his hand, summoning a teapot and cups close to Caduceus, who smiles again, the exhaustion in his eyes being overcome momentarily by joy.

Time passes, and for reasons he does not know, instead of returning to his bed or even his research when he feels the sun rise on the horizon, he remains, entertaining soft conversation with Caduceus as he cares for the wizard in his lap.

In the middle of breathing deep into his tea, Caduceus glances down, a tired but genuine smile breaking across his features, and he puts his cup on the floor with a quiet click as he rumbles out, “Hey. You back?”

A hesitant nod, and Caduceus pats one shoulder reassuringly, seemingly content with remaining on the floor as long as Caleb requires it. But Caleb pushes himself up from the floor, keeping his head tucked, hair falling over his face to hide his expression, but not the faint tremble of his body as he moves. Caduceus watches, some unknown emotion on his face, and he folds his hands in his lap slowly as Caleb moves away.

An unpleasant thought crosses the back of his mind, but Yussa lets it go, knowing it will return when he has a better idea of what it may be, and lets himself observe the two interact in front of him.

“The others are fine.”

Caleb jerks a nod, hissing out a breath as one hand finds a tender spot under his clothes. Still moving slowly, Caduceus unfolds himself from the floor, hunching down as he extends one hand down to Caleb, waiting with a deep reserve of patience as Caleb watches him warily from under the fringe of hair. But he reaches out, and with a hand that barely trembles, he lets himself be pulled to his feet where he sways and almost collapses again, his knees giving out and his free hand going to his side again. Gentle hands catch him, and Yussa forces himself to relax as Caleb lets out a quiet cry of pain, Caduceus pulling him against his side with an arm around his waist, supporting his sagging frame.

“It’s alright. You’re alright.” Even with the support, Caleb stumbles when they move a few steps, and Yussa can see a fresh trickle of blood drip down his chin as he bites his lip against the pain. Caduceus seems to sigh before he bends down and lifts Caleb to his chest with a concerned flick of his ears. “C’mon, let’s go and join the others.”

He waves Caduceus past him through the open door, and in the same motion the teapot and their cups disappear. Ignoring the quiet whimpering behind him as he leads them to the infirmary, Yussa tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes and he begins to think with the backdrop of Caduceus’ low voice echoing slightly down the stairwell. When Caleb begins muttering back, the sound is different, and his consonants are harsh, vowels elongated as he pushes his words out in Zemnian. Curiosity is what drives him to cast Comprehend Languages, regardless of whether Caleb would take it as an invasion of privacy, and some of the thoughts click into place at the back of his head when he hears what Caleb is saying.

“They found me. I should, I should leave, no I _need_ to leave. Fuck!” He hisses in pain, Caduceus grumbling out an apology as they continue down the stairs, “I can’t believe they started teaching them _that_ ,” His disgust is clear as he spits the word. “They found me. They found me.”

He repeats that in Zemnian the rest of the way, and Yussa proceeds them into the infirmary.

Instead of each cot containing one person, two of the cots furthest from the door against the wall hold five people between them. When he gets closer, he sees that they have actually shoved the two of them together, creating a large bed for them all to be on.

Caduceus hums, pleased as Yasha pulls herself up from the edge of the bed to shove another cot against theirs. She steadies Caduceus as he kneels on the beds, shuffling over to the clump huddled near the wall that reveals itself to be Fjord and Beauregard tangled up as Jester shifts enough for Caleb to be settled between the two. His muttering quiets down as Beauregard grunts, one bleary eye opening before she grabs him, tucking his face into her collarbone, her knuckles white where they clutch the back of his coat. Fjord does not wake, but he shifts close and throws an arm over the both of them, nuzzling the top of Caleb’s head and sighing as he drops deeper into slumber.

Nott crawls over Jester to curl up at their heads like a cat, and Jester smiles wearily at Caduceus before pulling him onto the beds behind her. He slots neatly behind her as she plasters herself to Fjord’s back, and Yussa spots one of her hands worming its way between Caleb and Beauregard to clutch at his hands. 

Yasha watches them with a fond look on her face. She does not even glance in his direction as she moves her sword to the bed behind Caduceus, leaving just enough room for her to crawl between them. The firbolg hums deep in his chest as a massive arm curves over his waist and fists onto Jester’s bicep, tensing before relaxing.

He leaves them to it, and turns to the door. Just as he is about to exit, there is a loud noise, like a heavy exhale, and then a strange creaking and he spins around, arcane energy humming around his hands as he does so.

Instead of an attack, he sees an impossible lattice of blackened bone and smoke swirling around a stretch of wing bursting from Yasha’s back, extending above her like a proud oak tree. A bone tip just brushes the ceiling of the room before it creaks and slowly settles over their little group, another layer of protection for them on both sides. A flash of purple over a white shoulder and their gazes meet.

He nods warily at the beast just under the surface of that stare, letting the energy around his hands drop. She blinks at him, slowly, and turns back to jamming her face into the soft fur above Caduceus’ shirt collar, the wing going lax over them as she finally drops off.

The door closes with finality as he backs out into the hall and stares at it.

More questions than answers have arisen from this one instance with the group than any conversation he has ever had with them.

He makes it up to his room in a stunned stupor before he realizes he still has work to do today, and appointments to meet. A glance at the clock has him cursing, and he flies through his morning routines to catch his first meeting of the day a half hour late. Luckily, Wentsworth was able to attend to them, having explained his absence as an emergency of some sort.

The rest of the day passes as usual, with various lords, ladies, and the occasional magic user asking whatever inane question they wish to ask, with very few of them having pertinent information. An hour before he typically calls it a day, one of his various informants of the outside world returns and reports of news on the war between the Dwendalian Empire and the Xhorhasians, as well as the rising unease and tension of the Concord. He sends them back out with another assignment, and they leave with a short bow.

From where he sits, he can watch the sun dip into the ocean in a spray of warm reds and oranges, making it appear as if the very sun is setting the entire ocean on fire. As the sun sets, lights wink on in the streets below as the Zelezho begin their night patrols and the day shops close.

Faint voices reach his ears, and he lets himself sag back into the cushions, closing his eyes and breathing in the salt that is carried into his rooms from the open balcony doors.

A quiet knock reaches his ears before Wentsworth enters, holding the ledger book in one hand and a platter floating behind him with a steaming pot of tea. He watches as Wentsworth pours a cup for him and hands it over, his eyes fluttering shut at the scent of spring flowers in bloom and a faint deep must of wet soil.

“Mr. Clay sends his thanks.”

Humming in response, Yussa takes an indulgent sip of perfectly brewed tea, and braces himself for the conversation of his appointments tomorrow with Wentsworth.

At the wave of his hand, Wentsworth peers down at the book in his lap, “Your first meeting is at midmorning with a Lord and Lady Sterling about protection for their newly rebuilt city due to natural disaster. After them is a petition being brought by a Concord courtier for aid in finding a new magical resource for powering defenses and the city. If that does not take too long, which we both know is doubtful, there is also the request for audience from those two ladies from Tal’Dorei you met with last year.”

He nods. “I remember them. The courtier can not complain about being pushed aside for such powerful allies as them, no matter how annoyed they may be.”

Silence falls over the room, and he takes another sip of his tea, already thinking of how to deal with the courtier as quickly as possible. It takes a moment for him to notice Wentsworth very pointedly not fidgeting where he sits.

“You may speak freely, Wentsworth.”

“I have my worries, sir, about them. Especially considering who may have caused such destruction to them.”

Interesting. Somehow that brash group of people managed to worm their way into Wentsworth’s regard. But it was a valid point he brought up, and it deserved the concern it required. 

He lowers the cup to the saucer in his lap, “I gave them my word of protection, in return for their services. So far, they have delivered on all that I have asked of them, no matter how unhappy they were about some of those things.” He stares out the window, running his tongue over his teeth as he picks his next words. “They may be worth the risk they no doubt drag along behind them.”

Wentsworth nods, seemingly satisfied by his answer. “They have all finally woken, but are still recovering from their ordeal.” He pulls out a large mirror from one of his pockets and waves a hand over it before handing it over to him.

The surface of the mirror shimmers for a moment, but soon clears away to a view of the infirmary, where the Mighty Nein are scattered about. Beauregard is stretching slowly in the sunlight streaming through one of the windows under the careful watch of Yasha as she sharpens her sword with a whetstone on the floor. Her side is littered with dark bruises that even the healing potions could not remove, and there is a faint red line from shoulder to elbow where bone had protruded, and she winces, pausing for a moment before continuing. 

Fjord walks out of the door in the back of the infirmary that leads to a washroom, towel over his head like a cowl, trousers on but bare chested as Caduceus motions him over to where he sits leaning against a wall across from the window. The half-orc settles down easily in front of him, a blush tingeing his cheeks at something Jester calls out to him as Caduceus runs his hands down his spine, checking for something. Eyes half lidded, he frowns and mutters something which has Fjord nodding in seeming resignation. As he watches, the cleric bows his head, one of his hands resting between green shoulder blades before he begins to pull it away slowly. There is a crackle of black energy and Fjord winces when Caduceus pulls the energy from his back, shaking his hand before sucking on the red tips.

Curious and concerned, Yussa mutters a spell and sound begins to pour out from the mirror just in time to catch Caduceus saying, “That should be the last of them I hope. Does that sound right, Caleb?”

From his spot curled up on one of the beds with his head in Jester’s lap, the man in question frowns. “How many has this been? Three?” When Fjord makes an affirmative noise, Caleb nods. “Ja, then. There are usually only three.”

“Alright then.” Caduceus pats Fjord on the shoulder and he stands, moving over to the beds to lie down next to Caleb. “Your turn, Yasha.”

She easily sets her sword aside and takes the same position in front of Caduceus, pulling her hair to the front as he begins the same process on her. Smoke rises from dark scorches on her skin as three packets of energy are pulled from her spine, her eyes closed throughout the entire process.

Jester pokes Caleb’s forehead. “That was super mean. You don’t have of those anymore do you?”

“Nein.” He shakes his head, snapping his fingers to bring his familiar onto his chest where the cat curls up, rumbling a purr even Yussa can hear through the mirror. “That was taken away by that woman I told you about.”

“Well, next time I’ll just have to punch them super hard!” Caleb goes pale at her words and she frowns down at him. “I will! And the Traveler will help me! It’ll be great!”

Muttering something too low for Yussa to hear, Caleb sighs, “I hope that there is not a next time, Jester.”

“Even if there isn’t, we’ll still be there to help, you know that, Caleb.” Fjord pushes himself onto his elbows to look Caleb in the eyes as he speaks. He waits until he gets a small nod from him before slumping back down, shuffling over so he can put his head on Caleb’s shoulder. The familiar gets up and stretches to Jester’s delight, running her hands down its back which draws a chirp from it. Content, it steps over onto Fjord’s back, curling up and delicately settling its tail over its front paws and yawning, revealing sharp teeth and a pink tongue curling.

A comfortable silence settles over the group, and they all seem to relax, soaking in the presence of each other. Caduceus begins to braid Yasha’s hair, humming the same tune he did earlier last night when he was caring for Caleb.

The door to the hall creaks open and Nott hops through, “I found another door we can go into, guys! I think it’s a kitchen or something, but there was food.”

At once, the group perks up, not unlike a pack of dogs when a bone is waved in the air, and Jester immediately scrambles off the bed, clambering over Caleb and Fjord, ignoring their protests at her knees and elbows digging into them.

“Are there any pastries?” She gasps and clasps her hands together under her chin, beaming at the room around her. “They’ll have cinnamon!”

Beauregard huffs a laugh and clambers to her feet, slinging an arm over Jester’s shoulders and steering her towards the door. “I am going to eat so much bacon.”

Yasha stands and helps Caduceus up from his spot on the floor, looking over at the two men still on the bed, “Would you like us to bring some food for you?”

“No, I’m coming.” Fjord grunts as he pushes himself off the bed again, carefully tipping the familiar back onto Caleb as he pulls his shirt on over his head. “Caleb? You comin’?”

He cracks one eye open and sighs as his familiar meows loudly at him, tail straight up like a banner as it jumps from the bed and trots in the direction of the door with a haughty look thrown over its shoulder. “Ja, I will come.”

Fjord grins down at him, extending a hand to help him up, and Caleb yelps in surprise when he is thrown over Fjord’s shoulder. Not bothering to hide his laughter like Yasha, Caduceus chuckles and goes to hold the door open for them. 

“Scheiße! Fjord, put - put me down!” 

Fjord stops where he is, looking at Caleb where he is trying to push himself up, one hand scrabbling for purchase on Fjord’s shoulder, the other grabbing at his belt. One eyebrow rises, “Do you want me to Caleb? You sure you can to walk down there after everything?”

It takes a moment, but Caleb stops struggling, and Yussa can see his ears go red. “You were also injured Fjord, and far deeper than I was.”

He shrugs, jostling Caleb and ignoring the way he hisses at him, “I feel fine, and if I get tired I can put you down. Or would you rather have Yasha or Duce carry you?”

“Nein.” Caleb sighs, slumping back down over Fjord’s shoulder. “This is fine.”

A grin breaks across the half-orcs face when Yasha hides another hiccuping laugh behind her hand, and he winks at her before strolling out the door.

The view follows them down the hall, and Caleb props his head on his hands, elbows digging into Fjord’s back in pettiness, and he strikes up a calm conversation with Yasha as she walks behind them, sword once again strapped to her back.

He waves a hand over the mirror and hands it back to Wentsworth. “They seem to be in fine spirits after whatever they encountered. You are dismissed for the night.”

Wentsworth nods and leaves, the door closing behind him quietly and leaving him to his thoughts.

***

While he had expected interruptions from his allies in their stay, he would have appreciated them to occur at any other time than in the middle of the night.

For the second time in two nights, he is woken by a warning tingle on his neck and the quiet chime of a bell.

This time however, it is not from the teleportation room as he had half expected, and he frowns at the array on his wall when he sees that the door to the roof has been accessed. Strange, seeing as he had never given them access to that.

Either way, he resigns himself to being up and puts slippers on before making his way up to join whichever one of the little group has unlocked the roof door.

Pushing the door open, he pauses, glancing around the roof and taking a few steps onto the tile.

The figure standing on the edge of the roof either already knows he is there, or they do not care as he approaches. Wind playfully lifts auburn hair from a messy bun, and he frowns as Caleb sways with its movement.

He stops, a few steps away from the edge, but next to Caleb nonetheless. A rough voice breaks the relative silence of the night before he can speak.

“I don’t understand them. I don’t understand their kindness.”

Curious despite himself, he feels an eyebrow rise. “And why not?”

Tired, red rimmed eyes stare unblinkingly out over the wharf below, and he sways forward again at the brush of wind, “Why would they be this kind when they know what I have done?”

“Perhaps,” Another dangerous sway and Yussa clenches his fists in his sleeves, biting back the impulse to grab and pull when he knows he would be rejected violently at best, and instead prepares to cast feather fall if the worst were to happen. “Perhaps it is because they care for you, regardless of whatever you may have done?”

That draws a chuckle from the man beside him, and Caleb shakes his head, leaning forward to look down, one of his boots nudging a small stone loose and it clatters off the roof.

At the interest in Caleb’s eyes, he cannot stop himself, “If you would be so kind as to back away from the edge, Mr. Widogast, it would be appreciated.”

Caleb finally stops staring down at the ground below them and glances at him from the corner of his eyes, a dark smirk curling its way across his face in a way that is disturbing, considering how well it settles there. “Why, am I worrying you?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t want to have to explain to your friends as to why you flung yourself off my tower in the middle of the night, considering the shape you were in when you arrived in my home a night ago.”

Teeth gleam under a bright gaze, and Caleb cocks his head to one side, going up on his toes for a breathless moment before stepping back. Whether or not Caleb notices as he releases the magical energy pent up, he does not say and instead stares at him. He has to prevent himself from looking away at the confidence that blazes forth, and instead compares the change in Caleb now to when he would try to not make eye contact with him without trying to seem as if he was.

“That would be incredibly cruel of me, to do that to them without explanation. Either way, they would drag me back if that were to happen.” Caleb smiles again, and his fingers twitch, a snap where a small flame curls its way around his fingers before snuffing out like a shooting star in the night sky. “They would not be happy, after they have kept me alive for so long, whether I wanted to be or not.”

Yussa struggles to find something to say to that.

But as Caleb snaps his familiar into existence around his shoulders, purring loudly and jamming its face into his jaw hard enough to force his head back, he catches movement at the door to the roof he had left open. A mash of pink, teal and blue jerks back from the doorway, and he bites back his reaction.

Staring out down to where the waves crash against the stone wharf, the light of the moon casting one side of his face in shadow, Caleb lazily rubs circles in the scruff of his familiar and it croons at him, nipping his fingertips and drawing his attention away from his thoughts. Blue eyes rimmed in red meet his own, and he raises an eyebrow, imperious. Something hardens in those eyes, and he can almost see a flame dancing in those bright pupils. Caleb blinks and it is gone.

Auburn hair bends to him in a shortened bow before Caleb seems to wince and draws back into his tattered coat and pushes past him to the door, head ducked into his collar. His familiar meows, sniffing at the air around them as they pass into the stairwell.

Curious, he follows, but there is no sign of the eavesdroppers, even when he tries to find them through magical means.

Satisfied that Caleb is no longer in danger of himself, he returns to his own quarters. He pauses, as the mirror on one of his tables catches his eye as he readies himself for bed again. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to check, now would it?

The metal is cold under his fingertips when he lifts it, and the surface shimmers and clears, revealing the infirmary once again.

A harsh but gentle light falls across the tile and the cots from the window, and a faint breeze rustles the curtains that have been pulled to one side. The three cots are still shoved together, and the deep rumble of a snore floats up from the mirror. As he watches, Beauregard shifts on the bed, mumbling something under her breath and jamming her face into Fjord’s back. In the pale moonlight, Yasha looks gaunt but for the green she cuddles to her chest, a claw tipped hand clenched in a tangle of her hair, and Nott snores on with her mouth wide open under a muscled arm thrown over her back.

Caduceus and Jester are closest to the edge of the bed given their little excursion, but they pretend to be asleep easily as Caleb creeps into the room and shuts the door quietly behind him.

Once he gets closer to the bed, Caduceus smiles and hooks an arm around Caleb’s waist to pull him between himself and Jester. Caleb tenses for a moment, but relaxes soon after when Jester tucks herself under his chin with a sleepy giggle. The familiar purrs as Caduceus wraps himself around both of them, pulling them to his chest as another breeze blows gently through the room to ruffle their hair.

The mirror fades to darkness the moment he puts it on the table in front of him.

He goes about finishing his routine before bed, and sighs at the coolness of his sheets against his skin. All his allies are alive, and perhaps they will entrust the reason for their damaged state to him sometime in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about Critical Role at [fledglingdm](https://fledglingdm.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
